


Optics

by AndromedaPrime



Series: Commissioned Fics [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:36:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron frets over his daughter’s oddly lit optics</p>
            </blockquote>





	Optics

**Author's Note:**

> Commission fic for [Reddle](http://reddle.tumblr.com/). Original post [here](http://andromeda-prime.tumblr.com/post/87314301073/title-optics-summary-megatron-frets-over-his).

Optimus was startled out of a midday nap by a frustrated, deep groan. He sat up in the berth and blinked the sleepiness from his optics, looking around for his mate. Megatron wasn’t there, but he heard his mate pacing frantically in the next room.

The Prime couldn’t help the amused smile that crossed his faceplates as he got to his pedes and walked into the room next to theirs. Megatron was walking back and forth, a tiny frame nestled in his arms and curled against his chassis. He was gently rocking the bitlet back and forth, muttering to himself about being an awful carrier, and how could he not have noticed this before.

“Megatron?”

“She’s sick! Our daughter is ill, look at her! Our daughter’s optics are... are…”

Optimus walked forward and placed a comforting servo on his mate’s arm, shaking his helm good-naturedly. He already knew what his mate and carrier of their sparkling was referring to. “She’s going to be fine, Megatron. She’s developing normally.”

“Do you call  _this_ normal?!” the silver mech and former Decepticon warlord nearly shrieked as he shoved their daughter in the Prime’s face. “One optic is dimmer than the other! That’s a sign of a severe illness or a developmental problem! I’m calling Knock Out.”

Optimus grinned and took their little femmeling into his arms, feeling her squirming against his chassis. She chirred softly, staring up at her sire with wide red optics. Optimus bounced her up and down in his arms, opening his side of the bond with her and telling her  _::I’ve already asked Ratchet about your odd optics; he says you’re just fine::_

_Chirp!_

“-going to take her right now to Knock Out so he can check her over, give her back to me now or so Primus and Unicron help me-”

“Megatron,” Optimus chuckled, their daughter grasping at his chassis plates and chirping softly. She looked between her creators with wide optics. “You are overreacting. She will be perfectly fine. It is a normal trait in sparklings, especially those as new as she is.”

“And how would you know? You are no medic!”

“True, but I did have Ratchet already look over her,” Optimus grinned at his mate, stifling laughter at the murderous look on the silver mech’s faceplates. “He explained that it is completely normal for sparklings to have one optic dimmer than the other, as that means both their optics are coming online and clearing their vision at different paces. It is only if it persists for longer than half a stellar cycle that it becomes a concern.”

Megatron looked miffed at the fact that his mate had gone to see a medic before consulting him, or taking him along. He  _was_ the carrier, after all! The silver mech merely snatched the bitlet from his mate’s arms and said, “I would still like a second opinion. One from a medic that I do know.”

“Yes, a medic that has never had experience with sparklings other than the one you are holding,” Optimus countered as he arched an optic ridge. “When Knock Out was assisting Ratchet in delivering our daughter, he took one look at your stretched valve and fainted onto the floor.”

“I don’t recall that, so how do I know it is true?”

“Of course you wouldn’t recall it; you were too busy yelling, threatening to rip my spike off and shove it down my throat.”

Their daughter chirped loudly, demanding their attention. She curled against the pulsing spark of her carrier, kneading her servos on his chassis. Megatron looked down at her and cupped her helm gently. Optimus noted that he had the same awestruck expression on his faceplates that he’d had when Ratchet had placed her, wet and squalling and newly born, on his chassis. He wrapped his arms around his mate, their warbling and chirping daughter between them.

“I had never been afraid of losing anything until I discovered she was there.” Megatron’s voice was low, in a frightened whisper that Optimus had never heard him use before. The Prime lifted a servo, gently stroking the other mech’s faceplates, wiping away the optical fluid that trickled out of his red optics and down his faceplates.

“She’s fine. You’ll see; within the half-stellar cycle, her optics will be wide open and she will be able to see. And they won’t be unevenly lit.”

Megatron clutched the little femme closer to his chassis, leaning into his mate’s embrace. The silver mech, former warlord, sighed in defeat and stroked the round faceplates of his sparkling. She cooed and reached up with her tiny servos, grabbing at his clawed digits.

“Fine. I won’t take her to Knock Out right now. But if it is revealed that she was indeed ill or has a developmental problem,” his red optics glared into the Prime’s blue ones, “I will rip your spike off and shove it down your intake.”

Optimus laughed, and the sparkling chirped up at her sire and carrier.

“I don’t doubt it.”


End file.
